


martyrdom

by savi0urdr3amer



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Character Study, Ending A, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Spoilers, also there's no capitalization lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savi0urdr3amer/pseuds/savi0urdr3amer
Summary: it never hurts any less every time you kill him. in fact, it only hurts more.whoever said that enough repetition leads to numbness must've been a damn good liar.





	martyrdom

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy oh man i am deep in nier: automata hell??? literally i haven't been able to put the game down ever since i bought it last week??? i'm currently getting through other routes as 9s and i am Suffering from the amount of feelings this game gives me (and i know that it only gets worse oh my god i am not ready) 
> 
> i hope you enjoy hella angst and sads  
> (also if you haven't played nier: automata pls do because goddamn this game is brilliant and it's fucking me up in a million different ways, i'm so sad lmao)

every time 9s dies bitterness becomes a poison in your mouth that leaves the spaces between your teeth burning.

you don't remember how many times he's died now. how many times you've killed him.

but you remember the first time- _too_ well, in fact. it's branded into your mind, permanently imprinted into whatever coding makes up your thoughts. something close to neurons activate memories in your brain, triggering images, feelings, and _goddamn_ it hits you that it's all still so _fresh_ \- the devastation, the anguish, the _guilt_. goddamn, the guilt. your chest tenses just thinking about it, the agony a chain coiling around your lungs and _pulling_ until there's a loop around you that won't stop tightening.

oh, you remember.

his body went still as your blade pierced him. the silver edge emerged out of a hollow space between his ribs, glinting silver as greasy, deep red rivers streaked down his back. you could almost feel the slickness of it on your hands, seeping through your fingertips like lukewarm water, and he let out a choked, guttural stutter as you pushed the katana in further, deep enough to press the handle to his chest. only when it hitched did you finally breathe, sounding equally as forced, equally as pained as he did, and you unsuccessfully held back a wail as he went limp.

he stayed alive just long enough to realize what you'd done. any pain he'd felt was minimal, you know, but that didn't stop you from ripping off your visor and screaming as his blood painted pictures of grief around you. 

emotions are prohibited. what a load of bullshit.

-

a good portion of you hates yourself for becoming as attached as you are. _it’s your fault,_ you tell yourself acridly. _you did this._

9s crawled through the cracks in your resolve and infected you like a virus.

you can run the diagnostics again and again, tell yourself to _snap out of it_ , but you know he’s sunk into your skin, into the fake marrow in your bones, latched in the recesses of your circuitry that no technology can pick up. there’s no cure for androids who make silly mistakes.

if you didn’t know better, you’d almost call yourself human. bound to repeat the same torture again and again, never learning from your mistakes.

while the machines in the factory chanted about becoming a god, you knew exactly what you were: a sinner. and sinners don’t get to reach godhood.

-

one night it rains just hard enough to turn the sky a murky grey; the sun hides behind a somber veil, and you watch beneath the shelter of an abandoned building as faint spears of gold break through the clouds. 9s, just a few feet away from you, powered down about an hour ago, so you’ll be standing guard until he wakes up and the two of you rotate positions. his pod hovers absently beside him, as if keeping guard over him, and even though pods don’t have any concept of morality, it feels almost comforting to you.

as you stand the cracked concrete digs into your back and your heels echo in the empty room, softer than the sound of pouring rain. you grab your weapons and they float at your back, and the faint whirring of machines can be heard in the distance.

“i’m going out. don’t follow me.” you tell your pod brusquely.

for a moment you wonder if 9s heard you, perhaps subconsciously. his breathing remains steady, his body still. he couldn’t have.

“hypothesis: leaving unaccompanied will place unit 2b in increased danger.” your pod chimes. “proposal: this unit will accompany unit-”

“shut up and do what i say.” you snap crossly as you walk towards the entryway. you don’t look back until you feel the rain against your skin.

nothing.

knowing that you’re finally alone, you fall to your knees, bury your face in your hands, and sob until there’s nothing left inside of you.

god, how you’ve fucked up again.

-

“hey, 2b?” 9s chirps from behind you, a bit out of breath from running. “i’ve been wondering… why did you go out by yourself the other day?”

the question catches you so off guard you nearly fall into a cluster of bushes.

“there’s no reason. don’t worry about it.” you respond after a few seconds, hoping you don’t sound as agonized as you feel. the tightness is back in your chest again, constricting you, _suffocating_ you.

“well… all right.” he pauses in thought. “are you sure?”

“positive. keep your eyes on the mission, 9s.” you unsheathe your lance and thank whatever god must exist because an army of machines appears in front of you, armed to the teeth.  

“roger that. sorry, ma’am.”

“i told you to stop calling me that.” you say crossly. you don’t need a mirror to know the despair is written all over your face.

how much longer can you hide this?

goddammit, you’re acting like a human again.

-

you should’ve known it would end like this.

as you plunge your blade through eve’s skull you wonder just how much of it he felt. how quickly had he died? _maybe you should kill 9s like that next time_. the voice in the back of your head tells you sadistically. you imagine it would be sneering. _perhaps it’d be the most humane way to do it._

you limp towards him, battered, breath coming in ragged gasps. everything hurts- your body, your heart, your willpower. your energy levels are borderline critical and there’s a high chance that your leg and one of your arms will have to be replaced. at least one of your ribs is broken and there’s a good chance the knockback from one of eve’s attacks dislocated your shoulder.

hilariously enough, you don’t even fucking care about the state of your body right now. the only thing that matters is him.

everything crumbles when your eyes meet and he begs you to kill him. it all comes pouring out uncontrollably- the fear, the anger, the guilt. it’s all magnified now, hitting your harder than it ever has before.

you’re losing him again. he’s going to forget who you are. and this entire process will repeat itself.

your hands coil around his neck and you sob as he strains and your chokehold tightens. his gasps become more ragged and your tears fall to his face, and in that moment you’ve never hated the world more for making you do this.

even when the eyes of the destroyed machines flash a brilliant green and his voice peeps out of a pile of cluttered metal it’s not the same. it never will be.

for not being a human, you’re pretty fucking selfish.

(and even selfish androids never get happy endings)


End file.
